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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217712">Want</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunniLibra/pseuds/HunniLibra'>HunniLibra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Female Character of Color, Fluff, i really like cowboys, idk what im doing, im just bored and want fluff, sue me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:47:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23217712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunniLibra/pseuds/HunniLibra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I like westerns, I like fluff and I like Arthur. So here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Morgan/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Want</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've never played RD because I am poor, but youtube and the internet exist so I enjoy the series none the less. I'm not 100% with the character's personalities but I'm learning.  Anyway, I like cowboys and fluff so here you go. Also, reader is black bc I am. Fight me if you don't like it idc. </p>
<p>unbetaed as usual but I love comments!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur watched plaintively from his cot, arm and side bandaged tight to keep the fresh knife wounds clean and closed. He watched you settle down on a little stool by his only light source. The flicker of the lamp bathing you in a warm yellow glow, the silver of your needle flitting in and out of sight as you worked like fish in the nearby river. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to do none of that now.” The cowboy’s deep baritone rumbled through the small tent. “You’re new here right? I’m sure Tilly will be around shortly ta do that.” </p>
<p>“You’re right, I don’t.” You don’t look up from your work, eyes focused on the rips in his favorite shirt. The bloodstains long since scrubbed out by your hands. He waits for you to elaborate but as your fingers work he realizes that’s all he’s gonna get.</p>
<p>“Not the talkative type huh?” Arthur asks, taking in your hunched form. This was his first time seeing you face to face, he had heard about you though. Charles spoke highly of you, which was good enough for him. Smart, witty, and one hell of a gunslinger; your knowledge of the region and tracking thanks to your grandfather had saved their tail more times then he would like to admit. You hum noncommittally holding the shirt out to check your work before folding it neatly, putting his tent back to rights. “Heh, I can respect that.” He chuckled regretting it immediately, warmth blossoming on his shoulder. Thinking it was blood he grabs at it. </p>
<p>Arthur’s callous fingers wrap around yours. “Sorry,” You balk, pulling back from his grasp. You flush, it’s heat spreading across your dark skin. Immediately you back up, tugging at a small curl that had gotten loose from your bun. “I’ll go get the nurse ta’ double-check those stitches.” You departed quickly deaf to his feeble protests. </p>
<p>Arthur hadn’t seen hide nor hair of you after that for a while. Opting to talk to him through John, Dutch, or Bessie. At first, it was amusing, he would chuckle whenever one of the three would come up to discuss map changes or movement of the feds. You never went on heists instead convincing Hosea you were of better use back at camp or working alone in the wilds. Anything to be as subtly away from him as possible. But as the weeks turned to months without seeing you, well it wasn’t amusing anymore.</p>
<p>“She run off or something?” Arthur asked casually one fall evening, leaning on the horse post as John tended the horses. The other man chuckled, shooting a glance over his steed. </p>
<p>“She didn’t tell ya though carrier pigeon or somethin’.” John laughed at his sour expression. “I doubt it, she is a hoot that one. But the game of messenger is gettin’ old.” </p>
<p>Arthur frowned, scuffing his spurs on the hard-packed earth. “You never seemed to mind playin’ it till now.” John shrugged scratching at his patchy beard coming to stand next to his old friend. It <em>was </em> fun to play messenger watching these two denial driven fools dance around each other. Abigail and him had started placing bets on how long it would take one of them to fold. Starting to look like he was gonna owe Abby some more money. </p>
<p>“At first it was fun, now your lookin’ like a kicked dog,” Arthur grunted, eyes darting around for an excuse before huffing in defeat. “Anyway, past couple of weeks she's been up at her pap’s old farmstead ‘bout two miles out north from here. Thought it would be a good idea to fix it up for the gang to use in an emergency if anybody needs a place to lay low or medical assistant.” John nods past the low tree line, soft blue eyes following his. “Hosea and Grimshaw was helpin’ but things are gettin busy again down here. Perhaps she could use some help.” With that, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively narrowly dodging the brim of Arthur’s hat.  </p><hr/>
<p>“Now there ain’t no need for this! I came out here to help ya.” The old cowboy protested but waited at your front door reading the very clear expression on your face. “ Ya don’t have to clean on my account.” He murmured clutching his hat in his hand. He regretted taking John’s ribbing to heart the moment he arrived. You obviously didn’t need help. The fairly large cabin and fields around it were clean. The roof recently patched, and the plot of land recently fenced off in sections. Your horse grazed lazily out with a few heads of cattle and a surely looking hen. Hell, you even had some crops started. </p>
<p>“You’re right, I don’t.” You smile finally looking up from your sweeping becking him in, pulling out a seat for him in the kitchen. “I was expecting Abigail and Bessie for lunch. But you are more than welcome to join me.” You place a bowl of an absolutely divine smelling stew in front of him, the chunk of thick meat smoking in a bubbling rich beef stock. He groans restraining himself from going hog wild on the food as you look in your cupboard for a bread knife.</p>
<p>“Oh well now, I don’t wanna interrupt your ladies night.” He mutters but doesn’t move from his seat; his stomach protesting the very notion of him not eating what you were dishing out. Another night of canned beans and stale bread might just do him in. </p>
<p>“Don’t bother movin’ Arthur, if they aren’t here now they ain’t coming.” You chuckle, sitting down next to him. “Got plenty of food for ya if you are feeling seconds.” Your eyes rake down his form huddled over his bowl spoon halfway to his mouth. “Lord knows you could use some meat on your bones.” You push the plate of thickly cut bread towards him. </p>
<p>“I-well thanka kindly.” He smiles back shyly, taking a slice.</p><hr/>
<p>The crawl space was suffocating, it’s air frigid and heavy with moisture making it hard for him to catch his breath. John pleaded with him quietly to keep it down with his eyes. The low light shining down from between the floorboards showing the fear in his eyes. His large hand covering Arthur’s mouth, muffling his sharp painful pants. His leg throbbed, the bullet wound had pierced his leg and no doubt shattered a bone. Shit, the world was getting fuzzy around the edges. </p>
<p>“You’ve seen any suspicious characters of late ma’am.” The heavy thunk of boots above shook dust down on the outlaws. John could see you sitting primly on your living room chair tucking a strand of sleep frizzy hair back in place. You made eyes momentarily before blinking back up at the two officers of the law surveying your abode.</p>
<p>“Can’t say I have; lest you count the two sheriffs barging into my house in the dead of the night.” Your tone was sharp, cracking like a whip down John’s spine. He smirked watching the two officers' backs straighten. Grimshaw taught you well. </p>
<p>“Now ma’am with all due respect this is an official search.” </p>
<p>“An’ I respect ‘em-but I ain’t seen nobody. Especially when I was sleepin’” You continue bristling at their condescending tone. </p>
<p>“You live alone then miss?” One officer passed right over them, John could damn well count the hairs of his mustache.</p>
<p>“Since my pa passed. But I can handle myself.” The silence as the lawmen searched your house was deafening. Arthur watched quickly thankful for the hand muffling his breathing, his leg pulsing with each beat of his racing heart. John glanced at him reassuringly letting the older man bite into his leather glove. He tightened his grip on his pistol ready to strike if need be. </p>
<p>The two men regrouped in front of your seated form minutes later. “I see- we’ll be on our way then. You have a goodnight.” One of the officers said tipping his hat to you, the other sheriff glaring at your suspiciously. But he followed after his superior regardless moments later.</p>
<p>“Think it’s safe?” John hissed squinting up in the low light. The thin cracks between the floorboards showing that the lanterns had been extinguished. The shadows above moving eerily, was it you or the lawmen back to try again? Neither men could tell. </p>
<p>It felt like hours before they finally heard you move. You descended the steep rickety stairs, blinding the men with the light of your dim lantern. “You boys alright?” You whisper, gripping your shawl close, the thin fabric failing to protect you from the chill. </p>
<p>“I’m alright.” John nodded to you, frowning at Arthur where he sat sprawled out in the cramped quarters clutching his bloody leg weakly. “Got him in the leg before his horse tossed him. Think it broke something. I’ve stemmed the blood and braced it best I could.” You nodded grimly kneeling beside the worryingly pale face of your friend. </p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Arthur slurred leaning into your cool touch. Damn, it felt nice. Probably running a temperature. “Just get me back to camp. Bothered you enough now; ain’t gotta help me more than this.” He breathes deeply leaning into your cupped hand. You glance back up at John sharing a concerned look.</p>
<p>“You’re right. I don’t.” You remark plainly grabbing at the wounded man’s shoulders nodding at John to get his legs. Arthur gasped weakly the pain of being moved was excruciating. “Them lawmen won’t be coming back anytime soon.” You shift his weight getting them up the stairs. “Let's get you in bed,” You smile down at him. <em> God, that smile was somthin’ else </em>. Arthur smiled back dazedly. “And you patched up so you can let Dutch know where Arthur is.”  Whatever happened next faded into darkness. </p>
<p>Arthur healed slowly, the days gradually turning into weeks in your care. Your company had always been pleasant at camp and now was no different. You gave him space and plenty of sketching materials if he asked. But bed rest had never been something he was good at. You were patient when he got grumpy, either from the pain or cabin fever you never asked, only getting short with him when he tried to move around the house. </p>
<p>“You know the doctor said I could help around the house ya know.” He grumbled one evening after an absolutely delicious meal. His pants hadn’t fit him this snuggly in years. </p>
<p>After clearing the table you helped him to your hearth, throwing a shawl around him for warmth. He hated but loved this feeling. He ain’t old and certainly ain’t no invalid but getting pampered like this was as nice as it was grating. “You’re right,” You respond automatically humming tunelessly, elbow deep in soapy water. “But I don’t-”</p>
<p>“Not this again!” He snapped knowing you were trying to cut the conversation short <em> again </em>. “I’m gettin’ a might touch tired of hearin’ those words out of your pretty little mouth.” He rose from your old rocking chair hobbling to your side. With a wave of his hand, he shooed you away from the sink grabbing a soapy rag despite your protests. “Just lemme do this for ya, alright?” </p>
<p>“I-alright.” You echo falling victim to his baby blues. “I didn’t mean nothin by it. I just wanted to be useful to ya.” You fall back face heating up as you slowly realize what you said.</p>
<p>“An’ you’ve done that plenty.” Arthur smiles flicking soap at your face, not catching on to the weight of your words. “The camp is thriving with all the effort you’re putting in. I don’t think we’ve been this well off in a while now.” </p>
<p>“I wasn’t helpin’ the camp.” He catches that looking over his shoulder. You rub your elbow timidly not making eye contact. “I <em> wanted </em> to help you.” You leave him to do the washing, rushing off to find something to preoccupy yourself, missing the matching flush on his cheeks.</p><hr/>
<p>“Now you don’t gotta,” Arthur fidgets with the small smattering of flowers clutched in his sweaty palm. The spring breeze ruffling his freshly washed locks, the collar of his new shirt damp from his hair and sweat. “Perhaps I miss read the room and ya were just being nice-but talkin’ with Abigail- she said I should try. But of course, if you ain’t interested, because why would you...” He rambled flustered by your unwavering gaze. “What I mean is, I’d really like to get to know you better.” </p>
<p>You beam accepting the small bouquet. “You’re right, I don’t” You take his hand excitedly dragging him into your home. “But I really want to.”</p>
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